Subject 94 Investigation Team

[*Krayt]

She walked at a quick pace the giants long gait hard to keep up with normally and even more so when his mind had strayed elsewhere and forgotten about his companions lesser size. Mindful of her bearing she walked with steady determinded steps eventhough they were hurried, it didn't seem as she were scurrying behind him. The smog was something she hadn't adapted to very well. Furrowing her brow as it got thicker and thicker.

As they arrived at the iron gate she falled into the left side of the Jotun leaving Ganatog to do the talking.

[*Mander]

The stink of the burnging forges helped to focus the giant, invigorating him with memories of his lost volcano home. He stood taller, seemed more alert as they neared the foundry. Ganatog would scan the area as they approached the gate, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

"I am here to commision a project, one I wouldn't trust to any but the finest Godsmen's crafting."

[*Cadence]

The only thing out of the ordinary was the relative unease of the armored guards at the entrance upon the approach of Ganatog. The one speaking examined the towering Jotun with a healthy degree of wariness as demonstrated by his body language for dark slits on his helmet did not reveal his eyes. He shifted uneasily before asking:

“So that I may direct you to the appropriate project manager, what is the nature of item or service?”

[*Mander]

"The best warding enchantment you can offer, on a helmet to stop unwanted sendings or mind speak." Ganatog rumbles in response.

[*Xndar]

Shortly after the guard passes along that request to one of the namers bustling by, a blue-skinned tiefling woman with black hair and red horns approaches. The woman pats the guard on the shoulder and motions for him to return to his post, before addressing the two visitors:

"Oi there, tag's Factotum Maelfina Sixthfinger. I hear ye be lookin fer a bit o' wardin 'gainst mental intrusions aye? 'S an innerestin thing ta be requestin a' this particular time fer a number o' reasons."

She says this casually, and with an easy grin on her lips, but there is an open probity verging on suspicion to her gaze and to her next question.

"Kin I get yer tags, faction affiliation an' rank if ye dunnae mind?"

The two visitors might consider the last two parts of that question somewhat out of place, but the ease and confident authority with which it is asked, as well as the lack of hostility present in her tone, would likely assure them of a fairly good reason for the question.

[*Krayt]

The long red-haired and black-winged elven looking woman glared bitterly as the enquiry fell. She had little patience for formalities but having learned that her fierce temper usually only prolongd things rather than the opposite. She waited for the Jotun to state his first and would follow his lead.

((Gone for 10 days and won't be able to post. Mander know how she would react to things though.))

[*phantomhermit]

Brogar, looking very, very distressed, makes his way towards the foundry. In a vision he saw many men in robes chanting. Robes are a bad . . . well . . . a sign that might help him understand the hallucinations that have been affecting him.

[*Mander]

///Is it too late to continue this now that Krayt is back?

[*Xndar]

((By all means, continue :)

[*Mander]

"I am Ganatog, and this is Maedbroghail. We are of no Sigilite faction." The fire giant peered down at the Godsman with tired eyes. "Why is this request of note?"